Glad Tidings
by beamirang
Summary: Festive oneshots. And the obligatory hurt/comfort chapter, now with added Spock.
1. Chapter 1

Yay! Christmas fic! Or Christmas ficlets, in this case. I figured it would be easier to put them all in the same place for the sake of housekeeping. Some will be fluffy, some will be angsty, some will be drunken and some will be very, very logical. At the moment there are six, but there are a couple of ideas I've been percolating on that might get added in at the end if I get my act together.

This one is inspired, and lifted in parts from the brilliant Scientific Inquiry into Santa (with some adaptions to fit Trek verse) that comes out of the woodwork in my office once a year.

Since the fic is called Glad Tidings, and since I love you guys and you are awesome, I figured I'd share some glad tidings of my own: turns out the plague is less plague and more a serious case of pregnancy. Best early Christmas ever! Hubby and I are over the moon, though he did a good job of panicking like the overgrown manchild he is. I'll say this though, if I'm sick for another seven months, he and I are going to have a _serious_ falling out. On the plus side, maybe he'd feel bad enough to let me call the kid Zefram :p No? Shoot!

* * *

Bones slumped miserably into the kitchen and took a seat at the breakfast counter. Jim had his Warp Physics assignment spread over every inch of the surface and his nose buried in a digital manual.

Given his propensity to lose himself in his work, McCoy wasn't offended when his friend didn't even acknowledge his presence. The silence did make his mom smile though, emerging from the oven with a plate of piping hot gingerbread men.

"Leo, sweetheart," she dropped the smile once she saw his expression, "what's the matter? Is Jocelyn alright?"

"Unfortunately." McCoy grumbled, thinking all kinds of uncharitable things about his ex-wife.

His mom set the rack of cookies down on the counter after clearing away several of Jim constructed work mountains. He didn't notice, not until the waft of hot, sweet cookie hit his nose, then he looked up curiously from his work, "Oh hey, cookies!" He said cheerfully, reaching for one.

"Wait for them to cool, young man." Eleanor scolded, slapping Jim's hand lightly. Jim pulled his hand back, big eyes looking wounded, and it took all of five seconds for her to cave and nudge the tray closer. "Fine, go ahead, but if you burn yourself, don't be complaining to me." Jim lit up like a Christmas tree and began to nibble on the arm of the first gingerbread sacrifice.

"Thank you!" He said politely, "oh hey Bones, when did you get here?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "Haven't you finished that yet?" He said, waving a hand at the pile of work. He had his own assignments he needed to work on, but the majority of his work at the current stage of his Starfleet education were practical and lab work, things not easily transported home with him. Jim and his insane 'I can do it in three' schedule had about four times the workload.

"Nearly." Jim nodded. "I'm just crosschecking some of the variables against subionic temporal shifts in the Alpha Centuri Nebula."

McCoy stared at him. "Jim. You know you're in the Command Track, yes?"

"Yes?" Jim said slowly, arm devoured.

"Okay, so while I get that Warp Physics is not an elective you can drop, you are already the top of that class, which, half the _actual_ Engineering students hate you for, by the way. Give yourself a break already."

"I'm nearly done, promise. Man, these are good! You're like a baking _genius_ Mrs McCoy!"

"Thank you Jim." Eleanor smiled at him. "You want some juice?" Jim beamed at her in delight, somehow managing to look all of five years old despite the complex equations reflected on his face from the PADD in front of him.

Still feeling exceptionally irritable, McCoy scowled at his friend. "Why exactly is it so important, anyway?"

"Because I want to be Captain some day." Jim said, voicing a dream that McCoy knew well.

"And you'll have a Chief Engineer to tell you all about this stuff."

"Yeah, but I'm still responsible for the ship, which means I gotta understand her. Besides, I like physics."

McCoy rolled his eyes. How the hell Jim maintained his rep for being a devil-may-care cad when he was clearly the single biggest geek McCoy had ever met was beyond him. "I suppose you're going to learn how to perform emergency surgery then, for when it all goes to hell in a hand basket?"

"No," Jim said, looking at him like he was the idiot, "that's why you'll be my CMO. I know stuff, you know stuff, it's all the same." Jim accepted his glass of juice with another brilliant smile. McCoy just about managed one of his own when his mom passed him a glass, the smile on her face making it clear how amused she was at their antics.

"God help me." Bones muttered.

"Well someone woke up grumpy…er today." Jim eyed him critically. "What crawled up your ass?"

"James Kirk." Eleanor scolded, her silent laughter safe behind Jim's back.

Jim blushed. "Sorry."

"It's Jo." McCoy sighed, instantly killing the levity in the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Jim asked, one step away from panic.

"Nothing's wrong with her." Bones said hastily. "I mean, she's not hurt or anything." Both Jim and Eleanor relaxed.

"Then what's the problem sweetheart?" His mom asked, coming to stand next to Bones and take his hand.

"Some little bastard at her school went around telling all the little kids that Santa isn't real." Even saying it out loud sounded silly, but damnit, this was a very big problem!

Jim stared at him in bewilderment while Eleanor took a seat at the counter next to him, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh dear."

"And my darling ex-wife, instead of having the balls to deal with the problem herself, said, do you know what she said?" He didn't give either of them time to answer, "she said, 'ask daddy'! As if daddy has any idea what to say to a four year old who has just discovered that she's been lied to her whole life!"

"Bones, I think you're throwing this way out of proportion." Jim said soothingly. "Like, _way_ way out."

"Really?" Bones said, getting more worked up, "because you're not going to have to be the one to have that conversation."

"Come on Bones, you have tough conversations every day!"

"Telling your daughter that Santa isn't real is not the same as telling a patient that they have a terminal illness!"

"So stop looking like it is!" Jim said exasperatedly. "Look, why is this such a big deal? I mean, sure it's not great, but kids have to face these kind of truths about life sooner or later. It's sort of the way the world works."

"Oh yeah? How old were you when you learned Santa wasn't real?"

"Same age as Jo, actually." Jim shrugged. "Some snot nosed Ensign burst that bubble. Pike made him scrub the latrines with a toothbrush." He adopted a sappy sort of smile he often got when thinking about aspects of his childhood that most people would not have found even half as endearing.

McCoy sighed. "It's just…kids grow up fast enough as it is. _She's_ growing up fast enough as it is. I miss so much, I just….I want her to still have this."

He was suddenly fixed with an intense stare, the kind Jim gave people when he was stripping them down and trying to see the truth of their intentions. Eventually his expression softened to something determined.

"Okay then, so let's do this."

"Do what?" McCoy asked, utterly lost.

"_Physics_, Bones, _physics!_ And some math. Mostly math, actually. Oh, I'll need more juice, and probably four more of these." Jim pointed to the gingerbread men with an innocent smile. "Oh, and one of Jo's big drawing pads!"

* * *

When Jocelyn dropped Joanna off after school there was none of the usual fanfare of her arrival. She gave Bones a halfhearted hug and slumped dejectedly towards the kitchen.

"Miss Joanna." Jim greeted her with a nod and far less boisterous enthusiasm than usual.

The same could be said for Jo, who only sighed. "Hi Uncle Jim." How the hell someone so tiny could sound so jaded was utterly beyond McCoy.

"I hear the Great Santa Debate has arisen at your school." Jim said seriously, as only Jim ever could when talking about _Santa_.

Jo looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "Billy Michaels said that Santa isn't real and only babies believe in him." She sniffed miserably and McCoy wondered if it was out of the realms of polite society to give Billy Michaels a good hiding. Jo _was_ a baby for godsake!

"Oh he does now, does he?" Jim frowned, arms crossed over his chest. "Well Billy Michaels is an idiot, and uneducated ignoramus and quite possibly a poo poo head."

That started a surprised giggle from Jo who suddenly lit up with the possibility of an ally. "Do you believe in Santa, Uncle Jim?"

"I believe in science, JoJo, and science says it is totally possible for Santa to be real." That made McCoy raise an eyebrow. Not quite the argument he expected Jim to come out with.

'But Billy Michaels says there's no way Santa could ever deliver that many gifts in one night. He says it is impossible!"

"Oh, and is Billy Michaels better at math than your Uncle Jim?" She quickly shook her head. If you asked Jo, no one was better at anything than Uncle Jim. Except perhaps telling Uncle Jim he was an idiot, in which case her daddy had that prize. "Exactly. Now hop up here and I'll prove it to you."

Jim held out a hand and she raced across the kitchen so he could help her climb up into one of the stools. Her digital drawing pad was already set up and ready to go.

"Now," Jim said authoritatively, "we are going to look at this retrospectively, because with the intention of teleportation I'm fairly sure the big guy is just sitting around on his tush having a well deserved break after a few centuries of bringing joy and sparkles, don't you agree?" Jo nodded rapidly, even though Bones was sure she probably didn't understand at least one of the words Jim had used.

"So we're looking at Santa's operation before we developed warp capabilities, which, let's face it, are even more impressive." Jim continued. "Now, let's start with reindeer."

"Reindeer can't fly." Jo said, her shoulders slumping again.

"Kiddo, If I can get your daddy to fly then I'm betting Santa can get reindeer to do the same." Jim winked.

"Very funny." McCoy said gruffly, even as Jo giggled again.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Jim laughed. "Seriously though. At this current time, there are probably still one hundred thousand living organisms on Earth yet to be classified, so while we haven't discovered any flying reindeer, that doesn't mean they aren't just really shy." Bones shared a look with his mom.

"You gotta be kidding me…"

"Hush, I'm listening." Eleanor nudged him with her elbow.

Jim ignored both of them, firmly in teaching mode and his focus fixed on Joanna. "So, that problem solved for now, let's look at the numbers. There's what, two billion kids on Earth right now, yes?" Jo shrugged. "Two billion seven hundred and ninety six thousand four hundred and nine, at last census anyway, but we'll round things off." Jim prattled. "Okay, so last time I checked, Santa doesn't usually visit Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist or Jewish kids-"

"Why not?"

"Well despite the fact that he's been a secular figure for like four hundred years now, some people believe that he represents a an intrusion of Western-"

"Jim, lay off the socio-politics and stick to the math." Bones warned, foreseeing a long winded rant on the subject.

"Oh right, yes. Well, anyway," Jim scratched the back of his head. "Assuming then that reduces the workload to fifteen point four percent of that two billion, again, we'll go with fifteen…that's three hundred, seventy eight million at a rate of three point five kids per average house hold, that's ninety one point eight million houses." Jo stared at him, her mouth open. It was obvious she had no idea at all what he was talking about, but she was enraptured anyway. Jim carried on, oblivious to the looks he was attracting from everyone in the room.

He scribbled those figures down on Jo's pad. "Right, so let's assume Santa is a smart guy, I mean he must be, right?" Jo nodded in awe. "Right, so he's going to be moving east to west, which means he has thirty one hours of Christmas in which to do all his deliveries. So that's eight hundred and twenty two point six visits per second."

"Do you have any idea what he is talking about?" Eleanor whispered in Bones's ear.

"I'm a doctor, not a mathematician!"

Jim carried on, clearly having great fun now he was in the swing of things. "Right, so Santa has one thousandth of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left – which is why I suggest soft foods, less chewing - get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these ninety one point eight million stops are evenly distributed around the globe -which, of course, we know isn't true but for the purposes of our calculations we'll just run with it - we are now talking about zero point seventy eight miles per household on a trip totaling seventy five and a half million miles-" he continued scrawling on Jo's pad, "and we should probably allow the guy a few bathroom breaks with all that whiskey he's drinking - which means his sleigh is moving at six hundred and fifty thousand miles per second, which is three thousand times the speed of sound, and man, you can bet he gave Zefram Cochrane a pretty awesome gift the year he cracked the warp equation."

"I think Cochrane was Jewish." McCoy put in.

"Then he probably just sent a very polite thank you note." Jim carried on smoothly. "Anyway-"

"But Uncle Jim, how does Santa fit all those presents in his sleigh?" Jo piped up, impressing McCoy completely with the fact that she hadn't lost interest even if she didn't understand everything.

Jim bounced from one foot to the other. "A very good question Miss Joanna! Have a cookie. Wait, now I want one. Hang on." Jim passed her a gingerbread man then bit the head off his own and hastily swallowed. "Right. The payload! Let's assume here that Santa's being practical and all his gifts are on average two pounds or less, the sleigh is going to be carrying three hundred and twenty one thousand, three hundred tons, not including the big guy himself, who I don't think we should judge given the number of mince pies he has to work his way through-"

Bones cleared his throat again and Jim pulled himself back on topic. "Anyway! So now assuming these flying reindeer of his can pull ten times the weight of their earthbound counterparts, we'd need two hundred and fourteen thousand, two hundred of them and they would…" Jim's animated expression suddenly froze for a moment but then turned into a bright, cheerful grin that fooled far too many people. "So there we have it, it's a big operation for sure, but if Starfleet can do it, so could Santa!"

Jo seemed to ponder over that before brightening. "So Santa _could_ be real!"

"I'm not saying he is for certain, but Billy Michaels sure does have his facts wrong!" Jim said brightly.

Jo erupted into cheers and wriggled down off her chair. "I'mma tell mommy!" She shouted, running from the room to her bedroom.

"That was surely something!" Eleanor laughed.

"Jim, what is it? You look like someone just stole the last cookie from under your nose." Bones frowned, seeing the truth of that fixed smile.

Jim raised sad eyes to look at him from across the room. "Two hundred and fourteen thousand, two hundred reindeer, Bones! That totals the combined weight of the sleigh to three hundred and fifty three thousand, four hundred and thirty tons, which, flying at six hundred and fifty miles per second creates enormous air resistance. The lead reindeer will absorb fourteen point three _quintillion_ joules of energy. Per second. _Each_. In short, they will burst into flame exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms and a big goddamn mess! The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within four point two six thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces seventeen thousand five hundred point six times greater than gravity. Which means Jolly Old Saint Nick would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by four million three hundred fifteen thousand and fifteen pounds of force."

The utter distress on the kid's face was mind-boggling. "Wait, what are you trying to say here Jim? Science killed Santa?"

"No! Poor delegation skills killed Santa! You'd have thought a guy who had that kind of global vision would have at least been able to hire a half way decent crew!"

"Jim, Santa _isn't real_." McCoy said slowly.

"Shut up." Jim glared, turning to his equations as if he could change them with the force of his own will.

"Oh no, we are not having another Kobayashi. Give me that."

"I'm taking that test again, Bones."

"So you've said." McCoy grumbled, wrestling the pad away from Jim before he could lose himself in the math. "Now for the love of god, sit your ass down and eat another cookie."

"I don't want-"

"I just finished up a batch of your favorites, sweetheart." Eleanor said kindly. "You wanna help me decorate them when they cool?"

Jim paused, considering. "Can I make the frosting?"

Bones groaned. Jim had absolutely no artistic talent at all and somehow managed to make even his mom's beautiful baking look utterly inedible by the time he was done frosting them. Eleanor glared at him. "Of course you can sweetheart. Leo, why don't you help?"

"Yeah Bones, stop being so grumpy." Jim smirked.

"I'm not the one who killed Santa!"

"I didn't kill Santa!"

"Boys!"


	2. Chapter 2

You guys are so wonderful! Thank you so much for all the lovely messages and comments! It's very exciting news!

* * *

"Captain?"

Jim had been half buried in the guts of one of the main computer servers when, without warning Spock announced his presence. Taken completely by surprise, Jim yelped, jerked upright and banged his head off the edge of the casing.

What followed was a string of admittedly appalling language that Jim fervently hoped his by the book First Officer would not have understood. From the slightly raised eyebrow he got in response, Jim knew he was out of luck. To be fair half of what he had said would have made an Orion pirate blush, so of course it was going to make a Vulcan do the eyebrow thing, even if that Vulcan was as used to Jim's potty mouth as Spock was.

"I swear to god, I'm putting a bell on you or something." Jim muttered, rubbing the back of his tender head.

"That would not be regulation, Captain." Spock responded.

"And what about the regulation that says 'thou shalt not give thy commanding officer a heart attack'?"

"I am unfamiliar with such an entry, sir." Spock said serenely, "however if your heart is of a sufficiently fragile condition I highly recommend a trip to sickbay."

"What can I do for you, Mr Spock." Jim's lips twitched as he fought off a grin. There was a time when he'd have wanted to wring Spock's scrawny neck for being even a fraction less sassy, and now he could barely make it through the day without being told how illogical, contradictory or just plain weird he was by his XO. According to Bones it was the latest aspect of his masochistic personality coming to the surface.

Surprisingly, Spock looked practically antsy, which was to say his shoulders could be used as spirit levels and his expression was firmly the wrong side of bland. "Captain," he began, "I am correct in assuming that we are friends, am I not?"

Jim straightened up and climbed out of the computer. "Sure Spock." He agreed readily.

"And it is not uncommon for friends to make requests of one another?"

Jim raised an eyebrow of his own. "I guess that depends on the individuals in question, but no, it isn't uncommon." When Spock displayed genuine moments of vulnerability with his human side, Jim took great caution to be both honest and considerate. He was patient, which surprised even him, but he considered his friendship with Spock worth it.

"Then perhaps I might ask one of you?" He sounded almost hesitant.

"Sure." Jim said quickly, eager to help in any way he could. It wouldn't be like Spock to ask him to do anything immoral or illegal, and therefore couldn't be as bad as half the favors that had been asked of Jim in the past. "Anything."

"As you are aware it is rapidly approaching the Terran festival known as Christmas and in order to appease Ensign Chekov's rather exuberant display of enthusiasm towards the holiday I found myself agreeing, perhaps erroneously, to engage in a cultural phenomenon that I have little experience in. I require guidance, if you would be so kind as to offer it."

Jim stared at him before the light dawned, and with it probably the biggest smile he'd managed all month. "He roped you in to Secret Santa, didn't he?" Jim sniggered, "good on him. Scotty and I weren't sure he'd have the balls to approach you."

Spock's expression shifted from uncomfortable to scolding in a nanosecond. "Please tell me you did not place monetary bets on this event."

"I did not place monetary bets on Chekov's Secret Santa." Jim said obediently. It had been alcoholic bets, actually. Scotty owed him three bottles of that rotgut of his. "So go on, who did you get?"

Jim had pulled Sulu's name and had managed to procure the single most badass gift ever.

Spock was once again back to looking uncomfortable.

"Oh come on." Jim said. "It can't be that bad can it? Wait, is it me? If it's me you know I'd be good with cheep whiskey and some good porn."

Spock did not look amused. "That is inaccurate and we both know it." He scolded. "However it was not your name I was assigned, but Doctor McCoy's."

Jim's grin was back. "Bones? Oh my god that is the best!" Especially knowing that Bones had pulled Spock's name and had spent most of the previous night ranting Jim's ear off about it. "Okay, so what do you have in mind?"

"I am uncertain." Spock passed Jim the tools he needed to put the console he'd been fiddling with back together and Jim began to wrack his brain for ideas.

"Well, I mean how personal do you want to go?" he asked, "because you could buy him a good brandy and he'd sing your praises for a week." Maybe just a couple of days given that it was Spock. Jim had finally been kicked off the top of people McCoy liked to rant about.

"I was hoping for something he might get more enjoyment out of than an alcoholic beverage."

"I dunno Spock, Bones really likes his brandy." Jim shrugged. "But okay sure."

"Upon assuming my task I found myself distressingly light on pertinent information regarding the Doctor's likes and dislikes. We have been acquainted for several years now and while I consider him a friend I find I do not really know him personally."

Jim paused and looked over his shoulder. Spock did seem genuinely upset that he did not know where to start. Straightening up, Jim's knee gave a twinge that reminded him he wasn't seventeen any longer and turned around to face his friend. "Bones is… look, Bones is probably the most honest guy you'll ever meet. What you see is very literally what you get."

"I must disagree." Spock said. "I have observed on numerous occasions him berating you for your behavior in a manner that to casual observers suggests dislike or at worth outright antagonism, yet I also know this to be as far from reality as could be."

"Huh, okay, so maybe not _exactly_ what you see is what you get," Jim agreed, "but I mean…okay, look, he's a complicated guy and you can win him over on a superficial level, in which case see the aforementioned brandy, or you can appeal to what's beneath that grumpy exterior."

"Which consists of?"

"Well," Jim said thoughtfully, "Jo, mainly. Being a doctor, being a decent guy. There are a lot of charitable causes he holds pretty close to his heart, anything that reminds him of home, of family – bake him a good pecan pie he might actually propose to you," Jim laughed, "just… you know him, Spock. I mean, you might not know his favorite color, or where he went to college or how many hops he can shoot in a row in basketball, but you know who he is, probably better than you think you do."

"Blue, the University of Mississippi and I was not aware he played basketball." Spock responded thoughtfully.

"And he will use that to hustle you first chance he gets." Jim chuckled. "But there you go."

"I see." Spock seemed to percolate on what Jim had said. "Thank you Captain, I shall adjust my thinking as advised."

"No problem." Jim smiled. "I look forward to seeing the end result."

"Indeed." Spock turned to leave him to his day but not before looking pointedly at the small pile of processing chips Jim had left abandoned on the desk, "I believe you missed something."

"Aw shit," Jim grumbled, reaching for the screwdriver again.

"Good day, Captain."

"Stupid computer." Jim grumbled.

* * *

In the end they chose to have the gift giving at the end of Gamma shift on Christmas Eve. It had worked out that they had all been on the unsociable shift and Jim had refused to change the allocations. He had opted to stay on the bridge through Alpha before being on call the following two shifts. As Captain, his schedule was unique in that he would be on duty for twenty-four hours, off duty for twenty-four hours, then on call the final twenty-four hours before the cycle repeated. This allowed him to spread his time around the ship more efficiently than being confined to a single duty cycle. Picking up the extra shift on Christmas took him to thirty hours, but he'd done it before enough times and it allowed one of the married members of the crew to spend more time with their partner. It was one of the few days in the year when he was more flexible with shift exchanges.

Now, hustled around the table in one of the conference rooms, they all took advantage of his presence to pile the table with snacks and soft drinks, the mound of gifts in the center having been set up before hand in order to maintain anonymity.

In theory, anyway, because as soon as Sulu unwrapped the newly crafted fencing foil Jim had commissioned from Hoshi-san's nephew, he turned to Jim with a huge grin and said "Thanks Captain!"

"Santa!" Jim stressed. "It's from Santa!"

"Here we go." Bones said dryly. "How many times Jim? Santa isn't real."

"He's real and he delivered all these awesome presents." Jim pouted.

Uhura patted him on the knee in a way that managed to be both affectionate and patronizing all at once.

"I believe we would have noticed an intruder on the ship, Captain, even one with benevolent intentions." Spock pointed out calmly.

"Don't harsh on Santa, Spock." Jim ordered, shaking his head in bewilderment as Scotty opened his gift and promptly thanked Sulu.

"Says the guy who killed Santa. With math." Bones pointed out.

"Thought you said he wasn't real." Jim said smugly. "And I didn't kill him with math."

"You'd have been very proud, Spock." Bones smirked. "Logical 'till the end."

"And what an end it was." Jim sighed. "But seriously, did anyone actually do this anonymously?" He had to ask because Chekov unwrapped his own snow globe of St Petersburg and thanked Scotty without even a second thought.

"It is merely a matter of deduction." Spock pointed out, carefully unwrapping his own gift and pausing, slightly stunned, on a collection of poems written by Lady Amanda Greyson. "This has not been available for publication for many years now," he said, "my own copy was lost along with my home." He raised very human, very grateful eyes to McCoy. "Thank you, doctor."

Bones shrugged awkwardly. "You're welcome." He said, voice gruff. Jim beamed at them both.

Jim had been curious as to what Spock gave Bones and was even more so when it appeared to be a single datachip. He saw the understanding dawn on Bones though when he loaded it into his PADD and found his long range communications time allocation had almost doubled. More calls to Joanna, Jim grinned. They all got a very limited amount of actual call time to Earth, especially this deep in the black. As much as Jim wished he could, he wasn't able to play favorites with Bones and increase his allowance. He did know that Spock never used any of his though, preferring written communication with his father to verbal.

It seemed Bones knew it too. He swallowed roughly. "Thank you." He said, genuine warmth in his eyes.

"You are most welcome, Doctor." Spock said.

"_Santa_!" Jim whined. "God, you guys are no fun!"

"What did _Santa_ get you, Jim?" Bones rolled his eyed fondly.

Jim had momentarily forgotten his own gift and turned his attention to opening it.

The PADD that dropped out was already booted. _One Thousand and One Languages to Insult Your Enemies In._

Jim threw his head back and laughed. "Thanks Uhura!"


	3. Chapter 3

I hope you all enjoyed the cute fluffiness of the last two parts because you will find neither here. This part is full throttle angstiness and woe. Christmas is a time for family and friends, but it can also be very lonely. It's very Tarsus and Frank heavy so comes with all associated warnings. Poor Jim has never been very good at accepting help. I wanted to get this one up before the next chapter of AL as there is a tie in of sorts, so keep your eyes peeled later tonight xx

* * *

"Merry Christmas, stranger! Tis the season to be merry!" The gaggle of smiling carolers caught Jim by surprise, their faces flushed with cold air and happiness, garlands of sparkling tinsel in their hair.

Jim snarled, bared his teeth and watched with satisfaction as they backed away quickly.

Tis the season to _get the hell out of his face_.

Hoshi Sato had rented a small house in the hills of San Francisco and the large, sprawling city held more than enough attractions to engage even the most apathetic of visitors.

But its appeal, such as it was, was lost on Jim Kirk as he shuffled listlessly up the hill back towards the house he had been staying in with Hoshi-san for the past three months. The locals were used to the strange blond haired boy who roamed aimlessly and none of them had ever bothered him. He wasn't sure if any of them even noticed his existence and found himself not caring either way.

He had never been the chattiest of people with strangers and ever since… he just didn't like talking much these days. There weren't any people he knew well enough to be comfortable with in silence and he was terrible at small talk. Who the fuck cared about the weather anyway?

It was cold, the wind crisp and biting, the promise of snow heavy in the air. Jim had wandered for most of the day, down to the bay and through the park, no destination in mind, just looking for places to hide in plain sight. He'd not told Hoshi-san he was going out, but she had to be used to him wandering off all the time by now. In the months he'd been living with her, Jim had made a habit of just walking out whenever he felt like it. So far she hadn't stopped him, though he'd been able to see the rising tension in her expression as Jim stayed out later and longer, pushing the boundaries. The longest he'd stayed away so far had been thirty-one hours and she'd cried when he finally went back. She'd hugged him, too, at least until Jim had pushed her away.

He picked up his pace. It was too cold to stay out for long, despite the thick coat and sweater he was wearing. He got cold easily these days and it took him forever to warm up again. It wasn't like he wanted to stay out here any longer, not when everyone was happy and bright and decking the halls with joy and bliss and any other bullshit they could get their hands on.

Besides, he knew he'd upset her that morning and even he was self aware enough to know that making a little old lady cry twice was a dick move.

It hadn't been her fault. Jim had been spoiling for a fight right from the get go, on edge and worked up in a way he hadn't been for several days. He'd dreamed of Frank the night before and the shock of it had left him off balance and on the edge. He'd not had dreams about Frank in months, not thought about him in almost as long, at least not in more than just passing. He'd honestly thought that with everything that had happened, his…issues with his uncle wouldn't have been such a problem any more. So Frank had liked to fuck him, big deal. Four thousand people were dead and Jim had watched it happen. Perspective, and all that shit.

But no, Jim had woken up to that old, familiar terror and the first thing he'd done? He'd called out for _Kodos._ Jim knew he was pathetic, he knew he was fucked up, but that was a level of sick even he had shocked himself with.

He knew why he'd done it, rationally and all. Dreams of Frank had been a regular thing when he'd first moved to Tarsus IV and while his dorm room hadn't been monitored, the common room had. Jim seemed to gravitate to the fireplace there whenever it happened and like clockwork, Kodos would arrive to comfort him.

And Jim let him. Fuck, Jim had _craved_ it. Kodos hadn't let him flinch away like Pike had, or treated him with kid gloves like Hoshi-san. He'd always been slow, always careful, but he'd pulled Jim into his arms and held him and it had been the most wonderful feeling in the world. Jim had felt safe and protected, and sometimes even loved.

So sure, Jim understood _why_ he'd woken up and instantly sought him out, but that didn't make it any better.

His disgust and shame had turned quickly to anger, as everything else he did seemed to do these days, and it had exploded at breakfast.

Jim was ashamed of himself, he was, but he knew he'd do it again.

He climbed in through his bedroom window and quickly shut out the cold, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots. He was back in time for dinner, that would please her.

He changed out of the damp clothes into fresh, warm ones and ran his hand through his hair. He didn't check his reflection, hardly recognizing himself these days. He'd been skinny before Tarsus, skinnier still when he'd started skipping meals and hiding it by doubling up his clothes. By the time they found him, he knew he'd been hours, not days, away from death. Even after six months, and even after gaining twenty pounds, Jim still saw only emaciation and death in his reflection. His hair was different as well. They'd had to shave it all off to completely be rid of the lice and bugs, so now he kept it short and spikey, new hair for a new him. His shrink liked the idea. It didn't make much difference in the end.

Satisfied, Jim slipped out of the room and onto the stairs. He paused, hearing voices and instantly pushed down on the panic. Hoshi-san didn't invite people over without telling him. It was just a holo, it was just a…

Just a comm, Jim discovered as he snuck closer to the ajar door to Hoshi-san's office.

He recognized the second voice as belonging to Admiral Jonathan Archer. His mom hadn't liked him. Jim had a vague, hazy recollection of him visiting in the hospital. He knew who Archer was, of course. Even if Hoshi-san hadn't told Jim stories, he studied history. The man was a legend.

Feeling guilty, Jim was about to leave Hoshi-san to her conversation but paused at the sound of his own name. Archer was asking how he was?

He could just see the edge of her back through the gap in the door. It rose and fell as she sighed. "Not good." Her admittance filled Jim with shame. "He barely touches his food, I know he doesn't sleep well. It's…I'm worried. I hoped he'd show some sign of improvement but there's been nothing. Physically he's on the mend but mentally… I'm a linguist, Jonathan. I can speak damn near a hundred languages and read a whole lot more, but Jim… he doesn't say much but he might as well be screaming for me to help him in a language I've never heard before."

"_Hoshi-"_

"I've no idea how to get through to him."

"_He's seeing the therapists, yes?"_

"Three times a week still."

"_That's good. And you say he's getting out of the house? That's a positive thing. At least he's not refusing to come out of the garden any more."_

Jim flushed in shame at the thought of someone else knowing that. He still had problems with small spaces, he couldn't sleep in dark rooms. He'd camped out in the garden until Hoshi-san had begged him to come inside.

"I suppose."

"_Have you talked to him about going back to school yet?"_

"No. God, I keep trying but what if he's not ready? Maybe after the holidays."

"_It's been six months, Hoshi. He keeps putting it off, he's never going to be ready."_

Jim recoiled, stung. She wanted him to go back to school? She wanted him to go out there, with people, people who had no fucking clue what Jim had seen or done or lived through, who just swanned along with their merry lives and had no idea what _real_ pain actually was? No. No way. And what? They just wanted him to get over it? To pretend it didn't happen? _Oh but it was six months ago_, man the fuck up, kid.

He waited for Hoshi-san to come to his defense.

"You're right. I'll talk to him."

"_You might want to get a move on. It's Christmas Eve, Sato. Holidays are over soon_." Archer sounded teasing, but Jim could barely breathe through the wave of hurt that had washed over him.

He didn't stay to hear the rest of the conversation.

He wasn't going to stay, period.

Hell, he'd stayed too long as it was. He'd tried to be polite, to be nice, and look what good it had done? He'd upset Hoshi-san so many times, even if she tried not to show it, he'd killed her holiday plans dead because he didn't want to go anywhere and he couldn't handle other people in the house and he _knew_ he was a lot of work, he did. _He'd_ not put up with Jim unless he had to.

Keeping as quiet as he could, he snuck back up to his room and began to pack. He didn't own much.

He didn't own anything, actually. Everything he had, Hoshi-san had bought for him.

He almost felt guilty, but no. He was better leaving. She could go back to her life and he'd not hurt her any more.

Because if he stayed, if she tried to make him go to school, he knew he'd lose it.

He'd be better by himself. No one to pretend for, no one to feel bad for when he didn't do a good enough job. He could look after himself. He was fourteen. He _wanted_ to look after himself. Being someone's burden was never a good idea. It always turned sour, just look at Frank.

And while he had a hard time imagining kind, gentle Hoshi-san as anything like his uncle, he knew there was more than one way of turning someone against you. Either it was big, like Frank, like Kodos, or small, like Chris Pike, but it happened. It always happened.

He gathered the long life food he'd stashed away in his room – he might have no appetite but whether he ate or not was _his_ choice, no one else's. That was it. His whole life in one small backpack.

Scrubbing angrily at his eyes, he pulled his coat, hat and gloves back on.

And without looking back, he climbed out the window.

Later, when he was hidden in the engine room on the stateline cruiser headed on a holiday themed tour of the quadrant, Jim curled himself up against the engines, half expecting the stab of fear at _small_ and _dark_, but the ship did what it had done for him since he was small, and the lull of machinery cocooned him in safety. When the engineers nearby began singing their off tune Christmas songs as the day reset itself, Jim let the two sounds sooth him into a light doze.


	4. Chapter 4

Guys! I went for my first scan and I am pleased to announce it's a blob! A blob with fingers, technically, but still. And it's kinda stupidly cute in a weird could-be-an-alien-life-form kinda way. So cute I'll forgive it for the fact that I still feel like death warmed over.

So please forgive my absence the past few days: I've been blobbed. This part features a Jim I've not really had much chance to play around with, and despite him only being sixteen, deals with some pretty adult material. There's lots of swearing and alcohol, and some witless asshole who spikes the wrong kid's drink.

Also, would you believe this chapter marks 350,000 words I've written in this fandom. More than 300,000 of them this year... eep!

* * *

"Gonna need to see some kinda I.D. kid."

Jim was not in the mood. He flashed his credit chip at the bartender and took one of the stools for the night. Clearly not caring enough to do more than the rudimentary checks, the bartender slid Jim a Bud and a tall glass of something lime green and so cold it was smoking.

Jim didn't even bother sipping for taste. He threw back a large gulp and laughed breathlessly as the cold burn sped down his throat.

"Man, that's good shit." Jim wheezed, speaking to the back of the bartender who had already moved on to serve a couple of human women with tinsel wrapped around their necks.

Jim frowned and finally took notice of the music playing in the bar. Huh. Christmas. When had that happened?

In his defense he had spent most of the last year in the bowels of a ship he was literally keeping in the black with spit, a few hasty prayers and – certainly in the case of the hydraulic cooling system, a wad of hastily chewed apple peppermint gum. He wasn't even one hundred percent sure what planet they were currently docked on, only that it was somewhere in Beta Quadrant and they should probably be avoiding Starfleet for a while.

He didn't think he'd been there before, which ruled out their usual haunts and the locals were talking in a language he'd never encountered. It was soothingly melodic and suited their long limbed, lilac hued bodies. Several of them were singing along to the Christmas music and Jim groaned into his glass. He crosses half the known universe and he still can't escape.

He'd thought he'd managed to find a decent dive to get obliterating drunk in but either he'd lost his touch since hooking up with Cy, or even the depressed lowlifes of this planet were all won over by the spirit of joy and fucking laughter.

Jim contemplated leaving and finding some place else, but doing so would mean heading back outside, and knowing his luck that would take him directly into Cy's path. Jim had three days dirtside to enjoy and enjoy them he would, which meant as much alcohol as the credits he had allowed him and company far more appealing than the unwashed scum of the galaxy he currently hung out with.

It wasn't that Cy would stop him, but he would insist Jim had a chaperone, which was bullshit. Jim was sixteen. He didn't need or want anyone holding his hand, and every time Cy tried to insist Jim would point to the fact that he'd managed a whole year by himself without anyone to watch his back.

It had been an epically shitty year for sure, but he'd done it.

So no. No moving. No attracting Cy's weird brand of over protectiveness that never seemed to extend to when he wanted to use Jim to bait one hook or another.

And so what if he'd found himself in holiday fucking central? Another couple of drinks and he'd not care either way.

* * *

Jim had just finished his third…fourth pint of that insane green liquid and had managed to put his intense dislike of all things festive to bed in a mound of fluffy, drunken thoughts, when someone slid on to the stool next to him.

Jim gave them the cursory once over, mostly to see if they were someone he wanted to waste the energy of conversation on, and immediately brushed him aside as uninteresting.

Human, so either a tourist or an unsavory sort…like Jim, really. Another glance and he was firmly checked under 'tourist'. He was tall, fit, but there was a softness in his face that made it clear he'd have no idea how to handle himself if Jim were to jump over and smash a bottle in his face.

Not a threat.

"Let me get that for you." Jim had just waved down another drink and shrugged. Free alcohol was free alcohol, and while he knew nothing 'free' ever was, he also knew that if he tried anything, Jim would be the one leaving with his wallet and possibly his boots as well. Jim's boots were falling apart.

"Thanks…"

"Deacon." The man smiled, a slightly nervous edge to it as he reached over and pushed the shot glass closer to Jim. It had already been in reaching distance, there was no reason at all for him to have done so, unless…

Yep, there it was. The microscopic spec that floated to the bottom of the glass and rapidly dissolved.

Interesting. Jim mentally recategorized Deacon from boring tourist to asshole in need of a lesson and fixed on his best smile. That smile had gotten him away with murder in the past and probably would continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

"I'm Sam." He'd used his brother's name plenty of times in the past. On Risa there were people who only knew him by that name – a nasty shock for his brother if Sam ever did show his face again.

"Not a fan of the holidays Sam?" Deacon asked, his eyes on Jim's glass as he raised it to his mouth.

Jim smirked, "Now what gave you that idea?" He asked, knocking the shot back and holding it before casually spitting the mouthful into his empty beer bottle. He kept it in his hand and pretended to take another few chugs before sliding it over the counter to be collected with the trash.

Deacon hadn't picked up a thing and Jim felt like rolling his eyes. He might look like jailbait – and there was not a single person in the room who'd genuinely believe he was a day over sixteen – but really, what did this asshole take him for?

Deacon prattled on about the holidays, and his work trip, his family… the guy was married for Christsake, he had teenage kids… Jim zoned him out, mentally cataloging all the ways he really wanted to smash the guy's face in. A year ago and he probably would have not even bothered with the subterfuge, but he had a better control over his anger these days, which was to say that he recognized how little he actually had and tried to limit the ways in which he might lose his temper and cause real damage.

He knew he should just call Cy. One look at him and Deacon would piss his pants like the coward he was.

But he wouldn't. He'd deal with this by himself, work out some of that Christmas induced aggression and continue to get so insanely drunk they'd need to roll him back onto the ship.

After twenty minutes, he excused himself for the bathroom and didn't really have to fake the wobble in his step as he made his way to the back. That green stuff was strong. _Really_ strong. He should check and see if they sold it by the bottle.

Predictably, Deacon was right behind him and Jim let himself go lax and boneless as he was pulled out back, hand under his shirt and warm breath on his cheek.

"I don't even like guys." Deacon told him, pushing Jim against the wall. "But…god, you're _pretty_."

Okay, just for that Jim was kicking him in the balls on principle. He seriously needed to start growing facial hair or something. This sort of shit would never have happened to Cy. Okay, granted, there weren't many people who would have been able to manhandle Cy anywhere, and while Jim had finally had a growth spurt he was hardly what you'd call bulky. But still. There were only so many times Jim's ego could take being called 'pretty'. Even the guys on the _Gynt_ had learned the lesson by now, though Jim had slammed a hatch on Brinn's fingers to prove that point.

Sometimes people needed to have all their fingers broken before they got the message. Deacon was clearly one of those people.

He was practically holding Jim upright by that point, still whispering about his wife, his family, how he didn't normally do things like this… Jim could believe him. He'd been far too nervous when spiking his drink. That didn't make it any better, in fact it irritated Jim more. He just wanted to have a quiet drink and now here he was staring in some would be sexual predator's midlife crisis.

The joys of literally being born under a black star, he supposed.

"Are you gonna hurt me?" He asked, trying to remember how to sound sweet and innocent when all he'd been doing for the past half hour was planning how vicious this beat down was going to be.

"Just a little." Deacon told him. "You'll like it, promise."

Jim snorted. Where had he heard _that_ before?

In the end, Deacon didn't even put up a fight and Jim got no pleasure at all in hitting someone who just lay there whimpering like the pathetic waste of life he was.

He did take the guy's boots though, and his wallet. "And the moral of this story is?"

A whimper was the only answer he got.

"Not quite what I was going for, but I'll take it." Jim shrugged, letting Deacon drop to the floor in a pathetic huddle of limbs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some quality brooding to return to. Enjoy the holidays."

* * *

"Jesus Christ, kid, you trying to pickle your liver?" Jim rolled his eyes up to look at the huge figure that loomed above him. He'd gone back inside the bar and continued to drink, only shrugging at the bartender when Deacon had finally been able to stumble back through the bar and make as hasty exit.

"Fuck off." Jim said moodily, his head too heavy to lift off the bar.

"Why the hell do I put up with you?" Cy grumbled, poking Jim hard in the ribs.

Jim growled and glared at him. "Because your ship would fall out of the black without me." He said.

"I could find me another engineer." Cy pointed out, one large hand practically lifting him off the stool and more carrying than dragging Jim outside.

"Not for what you pay." Jim slurred. "Put me down."

"Nope."

"I'll puke on you." Jim threatened, his stomach already rolling with the enforced movement.

"Do it and I'll cut your water rations." Cy threatened.

"We don't _have_ water rations." Jim yelped. "You promised you'd get a new filter three months ago."

"I got you that part you wanted for the engine. Stop whining."

"That _part_ keeps us from blowing up when we exit planetary atmospheres." Jim had to force himself not to puke when Cy's arm wrapped tight around his belly and hauled his unsteady feet across the street.

"Well we can't have everything, can we?"

"You're such an asshole." Jim groaned.

"And you're a whiny bitch. Nice boots by the way."

"Early Christmas present." Jim slurred. "Fuck man, I hate Christmas."

"And I'm sure it hates you back, Princess. Especially if you punched it in the face. Been fighting again have we Jimmy?" Cy's grin was terrifying. For all that he had problems with the majority of Jim's various neuroses, he actively encouraged Jim to start fights. Better out than in was his philosophy when it came to anger.

"Jerk off tourist spiked my drink." Jim complained. "S'fucking rude."

Cy didn't hesitate or pause, but he did look down at Jim curiously. "I need to be paying someone a visit?"

Jim snorted. "Thanks mom, but I'm a big boy. I can beat people up all on my lonesome."

"Don't I fucking know it, scrappy little shit."

Jim laughed at him, slightly mortified when it sounded more like a giggle. "I'm so fucking drunk, man." He confided.

"And I'm too fucking old to be babysitting." Cy grumbled. "You pass out, I'm leaving your ass here."

* * *

Jim didn't pass out. At least, not that he was aware of. He did wake up the next morning feeling like he'd been hit by a speeding cruiser and something had crawled into his mouth to die there.

Cy banged on his door with no consideration to the epic headache Jim was nursing and threw a heavy box down on Jim's lap.

"What the hell is this?" Jim frowned, opening the box to find the long desired filter for the water system.

Cy looked him up and down critically. "Install it and go shower already. You smell like a fucking brewery."

Jim grinned so wide his face hurt. "Holy shit, you do have a heart."

"Keep talking, I'll drown your scrawny ass in the shower." Cy threatened.

"Yeah yeah, I love you too." Jim was already hauling himself up and mentally listing the tools he'd need to make the repairs.

"Yeah, whatever." Cy grumbled. "Merry fucking Christmas, kid."

Jim paused, glancing down to the filter in his hands and what might actually have been the first Christmas present he'd had since his mom had died.

"Yeah," he said, voice catching. "You too, man."


	5. Chapter 5

"Doctor."

McCoy looked up in surprise and saluted respectfully as Captain Christopher Pike entered the shuttle. "Captain Pike. Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Nor you, McCoy. I probably shouldn't be surprised though." McCoy had only had a few interactions with Pike since meeting the man in Riverside shortly after enlisting. The few encounters he had all seemed to center around the one subject…the same one that had McCoy strapping in for take off on the last day of the semester.

"Denvers is down with Boctian Flu." McCoy explained. "They asked for volunteers." There were three other Med personnel on the shuttle: a second Doctor McCoy only knew in passing, and two nurses. Christine Chapel had looked as surprised to see him as he was her. They were both cadets, despite their technical qualifications, and most of the student body had already boarded transports home for the holidays.

Pike nodded in acceptance of the excuse and took a seat next to McCoy as their pilot called for take off procedures. The shuttle was mostly empty in preparation for the cadets they'd be collecting, but three instructors were sat together at the far end of a row of seats, all quietly sharing notes.

"They briefed you for what to expect?" Pike asked him curiously.

McCoy nodded. He'd been singularly unimpressed when Commander Yung had walked him through the scenario they were running.

The sixteen cadets they were picking up had been part of a Command seminar being shuttled to Russia to partake in a survival seminar with one of the Academy's satellite facilities. What they hadn't been told was that their shuttle had been rigged to simulate a crash and that for twenty-four hours they would be stranded in the wilderness before rescue. It was designed, Yung had said, to test fortitude, team work and creative thinking.

Personally McCoy thought of it as an exercise in physical and psychological torture. Even though the cadets were in no actual danger of serious injury, something Yung had gone to great lengths to assure him of when he'd started to protest, the simulation of the crash was traumatic enough without subjecting a group of untried, untested first year cadets to the harshness of a Russian winter with no food, no provisions and no idea what was happening.

"You don't seem very impressed." Pike said mildly, reading McCoy like an open file. "Relax, it's safe enough. Kirk will be fine. What?" He laughed when McCoy turned to him in surprise. "You think I don't know why you're here?"

McCoy muttered something unflattering under his breath and turned to stare out the window. So what if Jim was the reason he was there? Twenty-four hours in the Russian wilderness was no picnic for anyone, let alone someone with an immune system as whacky as Jim's.

"And what's your reason, sir?" McCoy asked with forced politeness. He'd only known Jim, and Pike, for a few short months, but he was perceptive enough to know that there was far more there between the two of them than just a simple mentor/mentee relationship. If his instincts hadn't told him that Pike was a good guy – solid, fair, moral – he'd have had serious reservations about his level of interest in Jim's life.

From what he'd understood from the little Jim had told him, he'd known Pike for years and the Captain had been responsible for recruiting Jim into service shortly after Jim had finished serving a jail sentence.

That alone told McCoy far more than he imagined Jim suspected. It told him that Pike must have pulled some serious strings to get Jim into the Academy, and it told him that there was something very messed up in his friend's life because Jim had a short fuse and an attitude that often got him into worlds of trouble, but McCoy had trouble reconciling that knowledge with the bright, friendly, decent kid he knew.

And with Pike having that kind of hold over Jim, showing that kind of interest in his activity at the Academy – enough that he'd actually sought McCoy's company in the past…well, he had heard the rumors, and for all that Jim might be smart and savvy McCoy might be the only person who could see the desperately vulnerable kid that hid beneath the surface. He didn't need protecting but that didn't mean McCoy was going to sit back and let some Captain think rank and influence entitled him to anything.

Pike smiled enigmatically. "I run the Command Track. These are my cadets. I'm allowed to look in on their progress should I chose to."

"And have you chosen to in the past, sir or is this year just special?"

"You're a piece of work, McCoy." Pike shook his head. "Never thought I'd meet anyone as paranoid as Kirk."

"He got a reason not to trust you?"

"Several." Pike said seriously. "Yet here we are."

McCoy didn't really know what to say to that.

* * *

They were flying in to the location indicated by the comm trackers each cadet wore in their uniform. In the end, they didn't need them.

"Holy…" One of the instructors breathed.

"What the hell is that?" Yung yelped angrily.

"Looks like a fire from here," McCoy said dryly. There was no way of mistaking it for anything else. The flames must have been a hundred feet high.

"How the hell did they start a fire?" Yung demanded. "That't not part of the exercise!"

"Would you rather they all had hypothermia and frostbite?" McCoy growled.

"That's the point!"

"I thought this was supposed to be a survival exercise?" McCoy frowned, following Yung as the man ranted all through their landing. Pike hadn't said a word and followed their departure sedately, pausing only to allow McCoy to gather his equipment.

The sixteen cadets had seen them coming and were stood waiting at attention. McCoy instantly sought Jim out, pleased to see him looking unharmed and relaxed.

"What the hell is this?" Yung demanded, pacing in front of the assembled cadets, clearly unhappy to see that in the place of wet, miserable, freezing young men and women he had a group of warm, dry, calm cadets.

No one responded for several seconds, then eventually Jim took a step forward, his back straight and still at attention. "Sir, our shuttle experienced critical systems failure and crash landed mid transport. There were no fatalities and we were able to utilize the shuttle's comms to send a message back to HQ informing them of the situation."

"I can see that, Kirk." Yung snarled. "I'm talking about that-" he pointed to the towering bonfire.

Jim's expression didn't even twitch. "Well it's goddamn cold, sir."

Pike's poker face was a hell of a lot better than McCoy's. Or Yung's.

"You better have a better excuse than that, Cadet Kirk!"

"After scouting the area we established that there was no better shelter than that which the shuttle could provide, and staying close to the impact site would expedite our recovery once search parties were launched. Since it was simply a matter of waiting we figured we'd be best doing our utmost to avoid prolonged exposure to the cold."

"So you built a hundred foot fire?" Yung was nearly apoplectic with rage.

"We got lucky, sir." Jim shrugged. "This whole area used to be used as storage during the last war. Nothing edible, unfortunately, but whoever used it last was kind enough to leave behind several barrels of moonshine. And gunpowder."

McCoy had a sudden mental image of Jim blowing off a foot while playing with centuries old explosives and made a note to throttle the kid at a later date.

He saw Pike's lip twitch at the edge and relaxed a little, even as Yung threw himself into an even deeper rage. "This kind of behavior is completely unacceptable, Cadet Kirk! Not only is it reckless, utterly dangerous, in complete disregard for the rules-"

"What rule did we break, sir?" Jim asked, his voice suddenly as cold as the world around them. "Our shuttle crashed. We did what was necessary to ensure our well being in hostile climates. What rule did we break?" The challenge in his tone was impossible to miss, even to an idiot like Yung. He picked up on it and squared up to Jim, toe to toe.

McCoy bristled, ready to step in with some bullshit medical code, when Pike cleared his throat. "Commander Yung, I believe we can continue this discussion in your next class. Let's get these cadets out of the cold and back home."

"Cold? Captain Pike, I must insist!" Yung spluttered.

Pike was having none of it. "As must I. You should be proud your students have shown such creativity and resilience in enduring a difficult ordeal."

"That wasn't the point of the exercise!" Yung protested.

"And yet it's a point well made." Pike said calmly, then turning to McCoy. 'Doctor, perhaps you and your team can see to the cadets on the shuttle. Let's not spend any longer here than we have to."

"Aye sir." McCoy nodded emphatically. Even with the fire blazing away it was damn cold.

It was clear Commander Yung wanted to protest further, but like all of them he had to defer to rank. Maybe there was something to be said for having a Captain so interested in Jim's academic career after all.

* * *

"Bones, what are you doing here?" Jim had somehow managed to position himself at the end of the line of cadets as they filed in, and was the last person he checked over. McCoy focused on the tricorder in his hand and not the slightly blue tinge to Jim's lips. Fire or no fire, shelter or no shelter, Jim never did well in the cold.

"Thawing you out before you become a human popsicle." McCoy said absently, not commenting on the kid's ridiculous nickname.

Jim threw him a smirk. "Aw, look who secretly cares." He mocked. "But seriously, I thought you'd be on a shuttle to Georgia by now."

"Leaves in the morning." McCoy said, giving Jim a shot of electrolytes and vitamins. He was mildly dehydrated but otherwise unharmed. McCoy still made him huddle under the same issue hyperblankets the other cadets were wrapped in, despite his protests. "Thought I'd come check up on you before I go."

Jim's smile was warm and genuine. "Thanks."

McCoy brushed it off. "Yung's pissed at you."

"He's always pissed at me."

"You probably shouldn't give him so much attitude." McCoy suggested.

"He should probably stop being such an incompetent dick." Jim shot back, making McCoy snort. "What did he expect me to do, just stand by while everyone froze our balls off?"

"Probably." McCoy shrugged. "Fortunately for you the cold just killed off a few brain cells instead."

"They'll thaw out." Jim shrugged. "I got two weeks of the dorm to myself – heating's going _way_ way up."

That made McCoy hesitate. "What are you talking about?"

Jim frowned. "Well the other guys should have all left by now. Or if not they will have come morning."

"You too." McCoy stressed.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bones." Jim laughed.

"You're staying on campus over Christmas?" McCoy was dismayed. How had he not known this was happening?"

"Sure." Jim said, "I won't have to fight for a desk in the library. It'll be awesome."

"You're not spending Christmas by yourself!" McCoy couldn't imagine anything worse. He certainly couldn't imagine being at home, surrounded by warmth and love, when Jim was stuck by himself in that damn dorm room. Even if his asshole roommates were gone, it was just about the saddest picture he could envision. And not about to happen.

"Well who else am I going to spend it with?" Jim laughed at him, amused. "Orphan Jim, remember?" He jerked his thumb at himself deprecatingly.

"You're spending it with me." He announced, his mind suddenly made up. If Jocelyn could bring her new man, McCoy could bring the stray he'd adopted.

Jim blinked at him. "You're going home."

"So come with me."

"To Georgia." Jim said flatly.

"Yes."

"And meet your family." Jim continued in that same measured tone of voice.

"Sure."

"Bones, I'm not the kind of person who 'meets families'."

"So you don't want to meet my daughter?" McCoy was aware that using a baby to influence his stubborn friend was a little unethical, but needs must.

Tough guy Jim Kirk was an absolute sucker for kids. "Shit, man, of course I do, it's just-"

"It's just nothing. You're coming home with me, end of discussion."

Jim looked down at his shoes, pensive and lost in thought. McCoy held his breath in anticipation, and eventually he raised his head, a shy, slightly excited grin pulling at his lips. "Okay."

"Okay?" McCoy frowned, used to so much more stubbornness from his friend.

"Yes. Okay."

"That's it? Just okay?"

Jim glared at him defensively. "What, you don't want me to say yes?"

"No! No, I just… god, you're a pain in the ass." McCoy huffed, slumping down in the seat next to him.

"I've heard that." Jim said quietly. "You really want me to come with you?"

"Of course I do." McCoy sighed.

"Why?" There it was, that glimpse of something really very young and broken under the surface. It was so at odds with the Jim he usually saw.

"Because you're my friend, dumbass." McCoy said gruffly. "And for some reason I have yet to fathom, I like spending time with you."

"Oh."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No." Jim shook his head quickly. "No problem."

"Good. Now do me a favor and focus on thawing yourself out before we land. I'm not introducing my family to a snowman."

Jim swore at him and the equilibrium of their relationship was restored.

He'd made the right call, McCoy knew that without a doubt.

But for the life of him, he couldn't decipher the look Pike was giving him from across the shuttle.


	6. Chapter 6

So, so so damn sick. I'm sorry to everyone i owe messages to. I'm literally at my desk for twenty minutes before I need to find a flat surface again. It sucks. Blob, you're lucky you're so damn cute!

Speaking of cute, this part should probably come with a fluffiness warning. First Christmas at the McCoy's! It's kinda crazy long, so I split it in two for Totally Dramatic Purposes! Mwaha. I mean…

Yeah, no sense is forthcoming from me right now. Enjoy!

* * *

Jim had been called a stray more than once during his lifetime, but it had never felt as appropriate as it did that current moment in time.

By the time Pike and Yung were done having their pissing contest back at the Academy, Bones had barely given Jim the chance to go back to his dorm, shower and grab a change of clothes before they'd been hustling to the depo to take a shuttle to Savannah. Jim was wearing his only nice clothes, ones he'd bought because Gaila had bullied him into doing so and he'd never worn since. They felt stiff and unnatural, but he'd checked his reflection before leaving and he figured he looked marginally more presentable than he usually did.

Then he'd spent the entire trip across country wondering why he even cared. Since when had making a good impression on anyone ever been high on his list of priorities?

But Bones had been happily chatting to his mom by the time Jim met him and looking far more positive about the whole Christmas thing than he had been previously. Jim knew his friend hadn't been looking forward to it. Thanksgiving had been a disaster and it was the first Christmas since the loss of Bones's father earlier that year. By the sound of it, no one had coped well with David McCoy's death.

Jim wasn't certain tagging along was the best idea in hindsight, but Bones had been fixed on it ever since he suggested it in the shuttle and Jim wasn't too proud to admit that he'd rather not spend _another_ Christmas alone. He'd been in jail for the last one and since that occasion was firmly considered the best Christmas he'd ever experienced, he guessed that said a lot about his history with the holiday.

But now…Jesus, now he was really wishing he'd stayed back at the Academy.

Bones had led them to the porch of what Jim could only describe as an actual, honest to god mansion. It was elegant and tasteful and clearly old as fuck…and no place at all for a guy like him.

And there was Bones, striding up the steps and opening the door like he hadn't noticed the delicate little plaque on the wall casually announcing that the house had been built in 1857. _1857_.

What the hell was he thinking? People who lived in places like this did _not_ want Jim in their company.

He opened his mouth to call out an excuse to Bones when a woman who could only be his mom suddenly appeared in the open doorway.

"Leo!" Her smile was wide and genuine, her arms wrapping around his back as he almost bent double to embrace her. They shared the same dark hair, though hers was curled stylishly to her shoulders, and warm hazel eyes. "How was your trip, sweetheart?"

"Good." Bones smiled against her cheek. Jim stared at him, trying to reconcile the grumpy curmudgeon he knew to this stranger.

"You must be Jim." He was suddenly pinned by that same happy smile.

"Yes ma'am." He said, remembering his manners. "Thank you for having-"

But the rest of his sentence was cut off by slim arms suddenly hugging him and he started, suddenly tempted to hug her back.

"Please, it's Eleanor. I'm so glad you could make it." She said, the fine lines around her eyes crinkling with delight. "Come on inside now, it's cold as a witch's tit out here!" Jim couldn't help the sudden bark of laughter that escaped him and Bones fondly rolled his eyes. "Leo, Jo's in the sitting room with Donna and Fred. Why don't you go on and say hi while I show Jim to his room?"

"Sure momma." Bones said, pressing a fond kiss to her head as he passed. He then clapped Jim on the back. "Relax or they'll think I brought you here at phaser point."

"I'm relaxed." Jim choked.

"Sure you are."

"Stop pestering the poor boy." Eleanor scolded gently. "Go see your daughter before she comes looking for you. Honestly, that child is faster on her hands and knees than any of your fancy starships."

The look on Bones's face was one of absolute enthrallment and he quickly vanished down the hall.

"Is this all you brought?" Eleanor asked kindly, indicating the small bag Jim was currently clutching to his chest like a life preserve.

"I..yes. I just-"

"A practical packer, I suppose you Starfleet boys have to be." Eleanor hooked her arm in Jim's and began leading him up an enormous winding staircase. "Now Jim, let's come to an understanding you and I. You tell me all about Leo's exploits at the Academy and I'll dig up the embarrassing childhood stories."

Jim laughed, some of the tension leaving him in the face of her gentle kindness. "That sounds fair."

She showed Jim to a room that was almost the size of his current dorm – minus the seven other bunks. The enormous bed in the center practically begged for him to burrow into and lounge. He had his own small bathroom just to the one side of the room.

"Now Jim, I should warn you that Christmas in this house can be rather overwhelming, so don't be shy telling people to bug off and leave you in peace. Everyone's so excited to meet you and I'll expect it will take a while for the novelty of fresh blood to wear off."

"Excited to meet me?" Jim asked in wonder, stowing his few belongings and meeting her again at the door.

"Of course! No one was expecting Leo to just up and enlist like that. There was one heck of a scandal, especially with everything that happened with Jocelyn – you'll meet her later, form your own opinion – and here he is, bringing someone home with him for Christmas."

Jim already had an opinion of Jocelyn Darnell and it wasn't a favorable one. "I am really not all that interesting." He protested.

"Sweetheart, Savannah society will be the judge of that. Now I imagine you'll want to be meeting Jo?"

Jim nodded eagerly, pushing aside the idea that him being there might cause Bones even more gossip. He knew how much Bones despised that, hell, he'd joined Starfleet to get away from it all.

Eleanor led him back downstairs and along a corridor and into a room with a large crackling fire, one of the real kind that instantly added warmth and peacefulness to the room.

He spotted Bones instantly, sitting opposite a man and a woman Jim guessed was Donna, his older sister. He politely accepted introductions to them both, noticing how Donna was clearly far more shy and quiet than her brother.

Then Bones stood, a small, dark haired face peering up at Jim from within his arms. "Jo, sweetheart, this is my friend Jim. You wanna say hi?"

Joanna McCoy was two years old and possible the cutest kid Jim had ever met. She was also the absolute splitting image of Bones, right down from the parting of her hair to the shape of her big hazel eyes. She pressed her face shyly into Bones's shoulder as Jim summoned his softest smile.

"Hi Joanna." He said softly, holding out his hand. Jo stared at him unblinkingly, then reached out with one small, chubby hand, grabbed Jim's finger and promptly bit down on it hard.

"Joanna!" Bones scolded instantly, an apologetic look aimed at Jim who had yelped in surprise.

Jo gurgled happily and suddenly turned an enormous smile on Jim, banishing all thoughts from Jim's head but the one that said for that smile, he'd crawl across hot coals.

"You got some good gnashers on you there kiddo." Jim laughed as Jo reached for him again. "Hey Bones, I think she likes me."

"Well you're about the same age developmentally speaking." Bones laughed, his whole face bright with animation and happiness. "You wanna take her?"

"I…sure…" Jim stammered, suddenly with an armful of squirming toddler who seemed to be quite fascinated with her new toy. "Hi." He said, shifting her carefully so she was more secure in his arms. "Well you're a lot more fun than your daddy, aren't you? Prettier too. Don't tell him I said that though, he needs to think he's special."

"Why do I have a horrible feeling I'm going to look back on this moment in fifteen years time and wish to god I'd never introduced you two?"

"Because you're a grumpy old man who is going to turn gray long before his daughter is old enough to pick up any of my bad habits."

"She's not picking up _any_ of your habits, Jim, you hear me?"

"Ah pish!" Jim laughed, bouncing Jo on his hip in time to her delighted giggles. "Me and Jo here are gonna rule the world, aren't we JoJo?"

"God help us," Bones muttered around a grin. Jim wasn't sure how they ended up rolling around on the floor with Jo for the rest of the morning, but by lunchtime they were all exhausted and after what had to have been the most amazing lunch Jim had ever had, he and Jo took over the couch while Bones caught up with his sister.

Jim drifted in and out, the warm weight of Joanna curled up against his chest a soothing comfort.

He loved kids – they had no ulterior motives, no hidden agendas. If they liked you they liked you, if they didn't you sure knew about it. Jim didn't have to pretend to be someone or something he wasn't and they didn't care about who he was or what he'd done. They either wanted you to play with them, feed them, or let them bite your fingers. Jim was down with all of it.

He stirred slightly when Eleanor come in with a blanket she tucked over them both. "Oh no, don't you move!" She whispered, "it's impossible getting Jo down for her nap when she's excited. You stay exactly where you are."

Orders were orders, right?

Jim jerked awake with a start when a small finger poked him in the nose. Having woken, Jo clearly shared Jim's short attention span and wanted some form of entertainment.

"Jim Jim Jim Jim!" She gurgled happily

"You," Jim said seriously, "are going to get me in so much trouble when you're older, I just know it." She beamed at him with a bright, gummy smile. "How did you manage to have such a cute kid, Bones?" Jim asked, seeing Bones enter the room and lean against the doorframe.

Bones shrugged. "Maybe it skipped a generation or something, I don't know."

Jo held out her arms to her daddy and giggled happily when Bones lifted her off Jim's chest. "Hey darlin'," Bones kissed his daughter's cheek, "your momma's here, you wanna go say hi?"

Jo nodded enthusiastically and Jim rolled off the couch to his feet. He'd heard a lot about Jocelyn Darnell and wanted to meet the woman crazy enough to let the best man Jim had ever known slip through her fingers.

Bones had explained that she and her parents would be joining them for Christmas, partly because they wanted Jo to have both of them together, and partly because their families still held firmly with tradition. Jim was a little intimidated by the sheer number of people expected to show up and desperately hoped he didn't make an idiot of himself. Polite company was not something he had much experience with, and from what he could tell from the house and the people in it, the McCoy family was _very_ polite and seriously influential.

Jim followed Bones into the room and was introduced rather frostily to Jocelyn, who managed to be both perfectly polite and ruthlessly judgmental all at once. He was surprised, seeing her in person. It wasn't that he didn't see Bones as having married such a beautiful woman, not at all, but just… Bones looked as natural propping up a shitty bar with Jim has he did standing in his mom's ginormous _ballroom_, while Jocelyn seemed like the type of woman who constantly had a flute of champagne in her hand and never a hair out of place.

She looked like any of the beautiful, bored socialites Jim had slept with back before enlisting – someone who only deigned to give him any attention because they wanted to walk on the wild side for a night.

So no, it wasn't that he thought she was too good for Bones, rather the other way around. Bones was a good guy. The best. She…well she didn't strike Jim as being particularly pure hearted.

"Pleasure to meet you, Jim." She said sweetly, her manicured hand small in his.

"Likewise." Jim called on the few months of diplomacy training Starfleet had given and managed not to call her a backstabbing bitch to her face. From the look Bones gave him, it was a pride the both of them shared.

"I trust Leo has warned you what to expect over the next few days?" She said, casually sipping a flute of pink champagne.

"Come off it, Joce," Bones growled. "It's Christmas not the Last Supper." His expression softened again just as quickly as Jo tried to wriggle out of his arms. He set her down on her feet and she tottered over to Jim, grabbing his pants and tugging.

Bones shrugged helplessly, not hiding a grin when Jim bent down and picked her up.

"It's all good, Bones. I got myself the world's most ferocious bodyguard here." Jim grinned as Jo poked him in the cheek, still endlessly fascinated with him. "You'll protect me, won't you JoJo?"

Joanna stopped poking him and nodded very seriously. "Santa's coming." She whispered.

"Bones?" Jocelyn shot Bones a confused frown and he shrugged again.

"I have no idea."

"It's nicer than some of the things I've called you in the past I suppose." She mused.

"Joce, footrot's nicer than some of the things you've called me." Bones said, an edge of something in his voice that continually shifted from anger to hurt to depression. The problem, Jim thought sadly, was that Bones was still very much in love with Jocelyn and as much as he couldn't get over the hurt she had caused him, he couldn't let go of the love either. He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but Jim suspected it was that more than anything that had driven him away to Starfleet.

Jocelyn's expression hardened and she opened her mouth to respond when Jim hastily cut over her. "But Miss Joanna, how will Santa find your bedroom in such a big house?"

That seemed to trouble Joanna greatly enough to turn watery eyes on Bones. "Daddy?"

"You know what we should do?" Jim said before Bones could yet at him for upsetting his daughter, "we should make him a signpost!"

"Orange one!" Jo announced, "Santa likes orange."

"I'm sure he does." Jim agreed seriously. "And I bet your daddy can help us make it real pretty, don't you think?"

"Orange daddy!"

Bones crumpled like a house built of twigs and obligingly helped them find the materials to make the best signpost ever created, leaving Jocelyn to be entertained by Donna and several of Bones's cousins who had arrived after lunch.

They took over the large table in a room Jim learned had once been Bones's study while he was in Medical School and Jim much preferred being squirreled away there slowly getting covered in more and more glitter thanks to Jo's enthusiasm than stuck downstairs talking politics and fashion and whatever else was being discussed.

"Looking good!" Jim praised, sharing a grin with Bones who looked utterly ridiculous with his angry eyebrows and a face full of glitter. "But you know what it's missing?" He asked Jo.

Jo looked up thoughtfully and beamed at him. "More shiny!"

"More shiny." Jim nodded, and very solemnly threw a large handful of holographic orange dust in Bones's face.

* * *

Jim slept the night like the dead, burrowed in the folds of a goose down coverlet and equally soft pillows. It was hedonism in the extreme and through he woke shortly before dawn as he always did, he spent another few hours just laid there, luxuriating in the warmth and comfort in a way he _never_ usually would have.

In the end, Bones actually had to physically drag him out of bed.

"For the love of god, Jim, get your lazy ass up!" Bones yelled, tugging furiously at the blankets Jim was trying to keep himself wrapped in.

"No! Go away! Mine!" Jim growled, sheets tucked under his arms for extra leverage.

"You're missing breakfast! I'm not facing Jocelyn's parents alone you miserable bastard, now get the hell up!"

"You can't make me!"

Apparently he could. There was suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around his blanket tangled legs and he was being physically dragged from the bed, landing on the floor with a thud and a yelp.

But Bones didn't stop there. No, he continued to drag Jim across the floor, mindless of his threats and flailing, and dumped him bodily in an old fashioned bath tub.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jim was too tangled in the sheets to make a quick getaway as Bones reached for the tap.

"Of course I fucking would." Bones grinned at him, and with a jerk of his wrist, turned on the cold tap.

"Motherfu-!"

* * *

"Did you sleep well Jim?" Eleanor asked kindly, handing Jim a mug of steaming coffee that did more to soothe the ruffled feathers of his ego than Bones's mile wide smirk.

"Wonderfully, thank you." Jim summoned a smile for her, wondering how such a nice, sweet woman could have spawned the Devil.

Jo was sat further down the table next to her mother and waved a sticky hand at Jim in greeting.

"Now the rest of the family will start arriving this morning," Eleanor advised, dishing Jim a bowl of steaming grits and syrup. "It's going to get pretty busy, so Leo why don't you and Jim go for a walk around town, show him some of the sights?"

"Sure." Bones nodded.

"And Jim, if there is anyone you'd like to invite to join us, the more the merrier. There's so many of us that a few extra heads won't make a lick of difference."

Who else would he even dream of inviting? Sam? Who the hell knew where he was. Hoshi-san? Because that would be a fun reminder – hi, want to hang out on the anniversary of the day I ran away and scared you to death? Pike? Yeah… they might be able to have a conversation now without one or both of them needing a strong drink after, but that didn't mean shit really.

There was no one.

And god, wasn't that a sad reflection of his life? Hi, I'm Jim Kirk and there isn't a single person on the planet, or off it for that matter, who I can honestly say would want to spend Christmas with me.

Except Bones.

Bones was weird.

"No ma'am, it's just me." Jim said, fighting not to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Eleanor must have sensed she'd upset him because she reached over and squeezed his hand gently. "Well that just means we don't have to share you now, doesn't it?"

Jim summoned a smile for her then turned his attention back to his breakfast.

Bones's attention had been utterly swallowed by Joanna and Jim was not about to be jealous of a child, but even the kind, wonderful woman next to him was a practical stranger and he…fuck, he had no idea what he was doing there, in her house, acting like he belonged.

There were nearly twenty people in the room already, dozens more expected to arrive in the next few hours, and compared to some of the people Jim had spent Christmas with, they were absolute saints.

But Jim wasn't one of them. He didn't even fit in at the Academy and that was filled with adventure seeking hotshots and intellectual nerds alike.

He still wasn't sure why it mattered, why, after he'd slept so well and so comfortably he was even on edge at all but there he was, over thinking like usual.

Surrounded by the happy chatter of so many welcoming faces, Jim felt like Ebenezer Scrooge looking through the window, watching Tiny Tim and his family and the bond that they shared and knowing that he was witnessing something he had never, _would_ never have… and coming to the painful realization that he wanted it desperately.

"Excuse me." He said, placing down his spoon and standing quickly.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Eleanor looked up at him in concern.

Jim managed a smile for her, suddenly jealous as hell because why didn't _he_ get to have a mom like her? "I'm fine, just need some fresh air."

And before she could stop him or attract Bones's attention, he made a beeline for the exit.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Jimmy! What's wrong?"_ The soft, kind voice on the other end of the comm. instantly made Jim feel like he had surer footing. Given that he was currently sitting on the edge of the deck with his feet dangling only a few inches above the water, he knew he was grasping at straws.

"What, can't a guy call his favorite person in the world on Christmas Eve?" Jim said, slightly more defensive than was fair of him.

Gaila giggled. "_I'm only your favorite when I have your dick in my mouth_," she said, as always managing to make even the crudest of things sound utterly normal and mundane. "_The rest of the time I'm your second favorite_."

"I…can't really argue with that." Jim shook his head in disbelief, a smile tugging at his mouth despite his best intentions. If Bones was his best friend, Gaila was his injection of sunshine.

"_Of course you can't. So tell me what's wrong_."

"It's nothing," Jim sighed miserably. "You're with Uhura, right?"

"_Uh huh_." She said happily and Jim could almost picture the exact way her hair would bounce with the force of her happy nodding. "_Her family is really very sweet. Is that the problem? Is the Academy that horrible by yourself? I can come back. I knew you were lying when you said you were looking forward to the peace and quiet_." She sounded upset and worried for him and that was the last thing Jim wanted.

"No, no. I'm in Georgia actually, with-"

"_That's wonderful!"_ She squealed, cutting him off. "_Give Doctor McCoy a big kiss from me!_" Jim had the sudden image of Gaila laying a full of smooch on an unsuspecting Bones right in front of Jocelyn and would have paid all the credits in existence to see it happen.

"How are you doing it?" He asked her.

"_Doing what?"_

"Fitting in. Sit around the table with Uhura's family and acting like it's perfectly normal."

"_It _is_ normal Jimmy. We're the odd ones out."_

"I know. Doesn't that bother you?" Jim sighed, bringing one knee up so he could rest his chin against it. The water stretching out in front of him was an endless, limitless blue and he had no problem imagining it once having the same allure to men as the stars now did for him.

"_If I let it, sure."_ Gaila said simply. "_So I don't. Being here makes me happy. I like that, and I think I deserve it. We've got enough obstacles to overcome without becoming one ourselves."_

"When did you get so wise?" Jim asked.

"_I actually listened to the therapist I was forced to see." _She giggled. "_And I didn't sleep with any of them, unlike some people_…"

"That was once." Jim grumbled. "And there were circumstances."

"_There's always circumstances, Jimmy_." Gaila said serenely. "_But you know, you could talk to your Doctor._"

"He's not _my _doctor. I mean, well technically he is my _doctor…"_

"_He'd listen. I think he'd help too, if you let him."_

"You talked about shit with Uhura?" It was a fairly low blow but Jim had never had to lie with Gaila. She'd read him like an open book from the moment they'd met.

"_Jimmy… I'm an Orion woman. Anyone who looks at me can take a halfway decent guess at some of the things in my past. A lot of them are literally written all over my face. I haven't spoken to her about it but she knows it is there and she's careful with it, and me. Far more than is necessary, actually and that's why it's as much a blessing as it is a curse. You don't have that warning sign."_

"You saw it." Jim said quietly. He knew exactly what problems Gaila experienced purely because of the color of her skin. So often people saw it at the expense of the person she was. She'd never let that hurt her though. Sometimes Jim thought he got more upset about it than she did.

"_Well that's because I am wonderful and awesome and incredibly observant, much like your doctor, actually. Though I think I look better in lace lingerie than he would." _She mused.

"Gaila!" Jim did not need that mental image in his head, thank you so much.

"_Well it's true! I'm sure he has wonderful legs but you really need curves to pull-"_

"Gaila!" Jim flailed. "For godsake, I have to have dinner with the man!"

"_Wasn't that a human saying though? When you are nervous just imagine people in their underwear?"_

"Not in that context. Holy shit." Jim physically pressed his hands against his eyes as if he could scrub away the picture in his head.

She giggled again, a clear, happy sound. "_Did I cheer you up at least?"_

"Yes." Jim said begrudgingly.

"_Wonderful! Now go back inside and have a wonderful Christmas, and if anyone makes you feel like you don't belong there, just remember that you are one hundred times better than they are, and far more proficient at cunnilingus."_

"Gaila!"

"_Honestly, Jimmy. Georgia has turned you into such a prude. Don't stay there too long_."

"I'll bring you back something to make up for it." Jim promised, laughing properly now, his smile back where it belonged.

"_Something shiny please."_ Gaila demanded. "_Or fluffy. When we get back you'll have to explain the thinking behind the teddy bear, it's most peculiar."_

"Fluffy and or shiny, got it." Jim promised, already planning on finding a teddy bear too big for her room, guaranteed to delight Gaila and annoy Uhura. Win/win. "Tell Uhura she's looking hot today."

"_Bye Jimmy_." She laughed.

"Have fun." He said, ending the comm. He spent another five minutes looking out at the sea – he didn't want to sabotage his own happiness. He _was_ a better person now.

Standing, he slipped the comm back into his pocket and returned to the house.

* * *

"Jim!" Bones found him in the kitchen, a look of relief crossing his face. "There you are. What happened?"

"Nothing." Jim said, smiling genuinely. "I'm fine, really."

"My mom seems to think otherwise. She thinks she upset you."

"Come on, you know men. No sense, no feeling." Jim nudged him with his shoulder as they passed.

"No sense, that's for sure." Bones grumbled. "You're okay though? Really?"

"Really." Jim promised. "Now, I left my coffee someplace and I'll need it if I'm going to spend the day being dragged around by you."

"You'll eat something as well before we go." Bones ordered. "Dinner's not until later tonight and you need to keep your blood sugar up."

"Yes Doctor Bones." Jim grinned at him.

Eleanor sent him a tentative smile as they returned to the dining room, one which Jim returned with gustso.

Then, remembering that he owed Bones for the cold water incident, and really not liking the fact that Jocelyn was bringing her new boyfriend to dinner later that evening, Jim grabbed Bones before he could return to his seat and gave him a loud, fast kiss.

The room fell silent in shock and Jim grinned at his flailing friend, "Gaila sends her love, by the way."

And then he took his seat, reaching for his coffee.

"Jim, sweetheart, I have a feeling we are going to get on wonderfully." Eleanor chuckled, her eyes on Jocelyn and the look of pure shock on her face.

"_Who_ is Gaila?" She demanded as Bones sat down, his whole face red.

Jim raised his coffee cup in a silent salute.

* * *

The afternoon passed quickly as Bones showed him the town's major sights. Joanna was with them, forestalling any furious swearing Bones might be stockpiling after Jim's stunt at breakfast. Jim knew him well enough to know that he wasn't genuinely upset, and Jocelyn deserved it, so the two of them took it in turns carrying Jo, stopping for hot mugs of coffee around mid-afternoon.

"I'm glad you came." Bones said as they sat inside a small café, Jim helping Jo reorganize the sugar packets into a picture of a snowman. "Even if you have given the town something to gossip about for the next decade."

"They looked bored." Jim shrugged.

"Believe it or not, Jim, life before your existence was not boring, it was peaceful."

"Same difference." Jim answered. "Hey Jo, you know Rudolph is actually a girl, right? All Santa's reindeer are. That's probably why they never get lost." He had to wrestle a packet of sugar from her hands when she decided eating it seemed like a better idea than using it in arts and craft.

"One of your random, useless facts?" Bones rolled his eyes at him.

"Hey, not useless! One of these days you're going to need to identify the gender of a reindeer and you'll be glad we met."

"I am. Glad we met." Bones said seriously. Jim paused and looked up, not used to this level of sincerity from Bones, who operated in only two modes: grumpy and irritated.

"Me too." Jim responded in kind. "And…really. Thank you for inviting me. I've not…I've never..."

"I guessed as much." Bones admitted. "But that's different now. So look, I wanted to give you this now instead of later when the house is full of crazy people." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, perfectly wrapped with red ribbon, because Bones was as much of a neat freak with wrapping as he was with everything else. "Merry Christmas kid."

Jim held the box in his hands with something close to awe. He'd been given things before, of course, but never wrapped and so carefully presented. Never anything so beautiful.

"Thanks." He said quietly, carefully tugging on the end of the ribbon and savoring every second it took to unwrap the gift.

Inside the box, resting on white gift paper, was a large, old fashioned key.

Jim picked it up and frowned.

"It's for the house." Bones explained. "It doesn't actually work, we haven't used physical keys in years, but it's more symbolic I guess."

"Are you asking me to go steady with you, Bones?" Jim joked, hardly able to comprehend the real gift he was being given.

"Well we already made out in front of half my family. " Bones said dryly, making Jim snigger as he remembered Jocelyn's face again. "But no, this is just more of a standing invitation. You're welcome whenever you want. Holidays, weekends, when you need a break from the Academy, whatever. I don't have to be there, you can go when you like. The room you're in now, that's your room. No one else will use it. You can keep things there if you want."

Jim bit his lip hard. "I didn't get you anything." He said softly. Or rather he had, but it paled completely in comparison to _this_.

"Jim, I've been dreading this Christmas for months. You being here actually makes it a lot easier, not having to do it alone."

"You're not alone, Bones." Jim exclaimed. "There's like a hundred people in your house right now."

"And sometimes that's the loneliest time." Bones said seriously. "But I think you understand that already."

Jim nodded softly. "Yeah. I do."

"But we don't have to be. Not any more. You and me kid, we'll stick it to the world."

"That sounds good." Jim admitted, grinning widely.

"Good." Bones nodded in satisfaction, snagging another sugar packet before it made its way into Jo's mouth. "And Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me again and I'll make your next physical hell."

"Prude." Jim said, rolling his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

This one is super hurt/comforty and the last of the planned updates in this story. Hope you had fun!

* * *

Leonard McCoy…Bones, he was _Bones_, was about to tear the whole goddamn world apart.

Three days. He'd been in that cell for three goddamn days, and they'd not let him see any of the crew since they had all been separated. Diplomatic endeavor his goddamn ass. This had been the Vitorian's goal right from the very start.

As First Contacts went it had been by the book to the very letter, at least until they had started taking heavy oncoming fire, which let's face it, was more _their_ kind of book anyway. They'd been hopelessly, hideously outnumbered, cut off from the ship and the seriously pissed off Vulcan who had been left in charge.

McCoy had been thrown into a cell by himself and left. They'd sent water and thin, edible crackers, but he'd had no further contact, no matter how loud he shouted or creative his insults.

Three days.

He was about to lose his mind with worry and anger, and then the door to his cell finally opened and his captain was thrown at him..

He was just about able to catch Jim before he hit the ground with jarring force, but although McCoy did his best to be gentle, Jim groaned in pain nonetheless. "Jim!" He cried, turning his captain over so Jim lay across his legs. "Jim! Talk to me kid. What the hell have you monsters done to him?" He demanded, cupping Jim's bruised cheek and trying to track the rapid movement of his eyes.

"Healer." One of the Vitorian's said, pointing to McCoy. "Heal." He indicated Jim and his twitching limbs.

"Why? So you can torture him all over again?" McCoy demanded, checking Jim's pulse and feeling his alarm rise at the abnormally rapid pace it raced at. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"Heal." They stressed again.

"With _what_? I need my equipment, my bag." McCoy carefully set Jim down on the stone floor and stripped off his own overshirt to make a pillow for Jim's head. The captain was conscious but senseless, most likely concussed and clearly in a world of pain.

The Vitorians left, leaving only a bowl of cool clean water behind them. With no way to know if his request would be honored, McCoy set about doing what he could.

An old sawbones, that was what Jim jokingly called him, but it was apt for the way he was performing his diagnostic. Without scanners to identify the problems Jim was experiencing, he had to rely on his own senses, touch, sight, sound, to tell him what was wrong.

He started at Jim's head, carefully feeling his skull, then rounding down his neck, checking his spine. He found the bump at the back of Jim's head fairly quickly – Jim had taken one hell of a knock when they'd been captured and it was clear he'd not been allowed any treatment for it. Any further injuries to his head would only have worsened the damage and McCoy could only pray the damage was localized. Given the two black eyes and clearly broken nose Jim had to match, it seemed his captors had not been overly concerned with their treatment of him.

"Jim? Can you hear me?"

Jim's eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus on McCoy's face. "Bones." He murmured.

"Yeah kid, it's me." Funny, Jim was going to be thirty next year, but McCoy would never stop thinking of him as _kid_.

"We gotta stop meeting like this." Jim slurred, his bruised mouth twitching into a half smile.

"No kidding." McCoy said, moving down to Jim's torso. His ribs were badly bruised but didn't feel broken, which relieved McCoy more than he cared to admit. Jim was no stranger to bust ribs but they carried more deadly implications should they rupture any organs. "This hurt?" He asked Jim, trying to keep his attention.

"No." Jim lied predictably.

"Uh huh. What about now?"

"Its…fine." Jim had broken off into a hiss midsentence as McCoy had gently pressed against his abdomen. That was worrying. If Jim was bleeding internally McCoy would have no hope of saving him without his equipment.

"How's your head?"

"Feels like I drank too much Bloodwine." Jim grimaced. That had been a hangover for the record books. "They hurt you?"

McCoy had to push him gently back down as Jim tried to sit to assess any hurt that might have been inflicted on his crewman.

"Aside from a few bumps and bruises when they captured us I'm fine." McCoy assured him. "Looks like you've kept them occupied. What do they want?"

"Information. Access codes. Doesn't matter. I won't give them anything." Jim said, closing his eyes tiredly. McCoy finished his checks, adding a sprained wrist, splintered metatarsal and swollen elbow. Both his legs had been broken, which accounted for the worst of the pain Jim must have been feeling as well as the residual shock which left him weak and shaky.

He had nothing he could splint the breaks with, though he used his undershirt to bind Jim's legs together to limit their mobility and the chances of his causing more damage by moving.

Jim had choked back a cry as McCoy worked, but managed to contain most vocalizations of his pain. Usually his stoicism drove McCoy mad, but he guiltily was thankful for it as he had no way at all of easing any of Jim's agony.

Having done as much as he could, McCoy shuffled back against the wall and pulled Jim gently against him. He was feeling the cold now, having shed both his shirts, and Jim was still trembling lightly.

"Careful now Bones." Jim said, his eyes still closed. "People will talk."

"I'm sure they will." Bones snorted, his chin resting lightly on Jim's shoulder. "How long do you think before Spock gets us out?"

"Not long." Jim promised.

"It's been three days." McCoy couldn't help but be pessimistic. "God, Jim, what if they try take you again?"

"You'll let them." Jim said sternly, opening his eyes to pin McCoy with one of his intense stares, the kind he only ever used when he was at his most serious. "That's an order."

"Shove your orders, kid." Bones said harshly. "I'm not going to stand back and let them hurt you."

"God, you're the worst." Jim sighed. "You'll do as you're damn well told."

"Make me." Bones taunted.

Jim weakly raised an arm then let it fall back against his side. "Too much effort." He moaned.

"So I win." McCoy knew that would annoy him, and predictably Jim glared up in his direction.

"I think you'll find it counts as a draw."

"Which is as good as a win." MocCoy said, one hand resting over Jim's heart, helping to regulate his harsh, uneven breathing by bringing Jim in time with his own inhalations. He knew that if they were in any other situation, at any other time, he'd never be allowed to do what he was doing. Jim didn't like being touched when he was physically hurting, it made him twitchy and ended up causing more harm than good.

But they had been friends for so long now, seen each other through so many hardships. Jim trusted McCoy with the closeness, and he knew it brought the doctor as much comfort as it did him.

"Hmm." Jim murmured tiredly.

"Oh no, wake up you lazy bastard." McCoy growled. "Head injury, remember? You've had enough of them."

"You're so annoying." Jim grumbled but obediently opened his eyes again.

"It's a professional talent." McCoy agreed. "Now come on, talk to me."

"I'm tired Bones." And he sounded it. McCoy had no way of knowing how much rest their captors had allowed Jim in the last few days.

"I know kid, but you have to stay awake. Come on Jim, normally I can't get you to shut up."

"True." Jim muttered. "Okay, I'm awake. God, this is officially going in my top five shittiest Christmases."

"You're the one who wanted to work over the holidays." McCoy pointed out.

"Barnett's the one who gave the orders." Jim protested.

"And we'll kick his ass when we get back." McCoy promised. "But really, only _in_ the top five? We're locked in a cell on some backward planet and you look like you've been used as a piñata, and it doesn't get top spot?"

"Christmas after Sam left." Jim said softly. "That was the worst." McCoy cringed, cursing himself. Of course Jim had seen some pretty horrible Christmases. He must have done – no one could have looked so utterly overwhelmed, so genuinely, innocently enthralled by McCoy's crazy family holidays if they had their own experiences of joy to look back on. It had been pretty clear from the very first Christmas they had shared together that Jim had never done any of the things he himself took for granted.

"Yeah," McCoy said gently, "I bet." The thought of Jim in a house alone with his asshole uncle made his skin crawl.

"I fucking wrote to Santa, asked him to bring Sam back." Jim laughed mirthlessly.

The thought tore at McCoy's heart. "Thought you'd fallen off the Santa wagon long before that?" He teased, trying to lift Jim's mind out of the dark place he'd so carelessly sent it.

"Sure," Jim agreed, "did it anyway. I was kinda desperate."

Unconsciously, McCoy's arms had tightened around Jim's chest. "Take it the big guy failed to cough up the goods?"

"Yeah. Asshole."

"He probably deserved to vaporize at the back of his sleigh then." Bones teased.

Jim snorted, clearly remembering the Christmas he'd tried to convince Jo Santa was real. "Ow, don't make me laugh."

"Sorry," Bones said absently, turning his cheek to rest against Jim's dirty hair. "What's top five then?"He asked. "Best Christmases."

Jim's lips twitched, some of his trembling easing as he turned his thoughts to happier memories.

"Christmas in prison was pretty good, actually." Jim admitted. "I mean, none of us actually wanted to admit that we enjoyed ourselves, but we did."

"Please tell me that's not your best Chistmas, Jim." Bones despaired.

"Hmm. No. No, that was a couple of years ago. You dragged me back to Savannah after I flunked the Maru a second time."

McCoy remembered that. Jim had been in one hell of a mood for weeks. He'd obsessed over that damn test and failing it a second time had caused a pretty horrific fallout. McCoy had been genuinely worried about him and he wasn't the only one. Jim had shut them all out, Pike, Gaila, Delta Team. Christmas had been an intervention more than anything, but within only hours of setting foot back home, the changes in Jim had been visible. He'd relaxed, he'd calmed down, and he'd lost the angry, broken look in his eyes that had scared everyone around him,

"You mean the one where Fred burned the turkey and Jo cried for a whole hour because I wouldn't let her stay up on Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah." Jim said, turning his head tiredly so it rested heavily on McCoy's chest. His eyes had fluttered closed again and Bones gave him a gentle shake, hating the way he moaned in pain.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why's that Christmas your favorite? Tell me."

"Cause it was."

"Very eloquent, Jim. Come on."

Jim groaned and tried turning away from McCoy's voice. Bones wouldn't let him, gently holding him in place. Eventually he gave in. "Because it felt normal."

That hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting. "What does that mean?"

"I dunno. I just means… means it felt like I belonged." Bones closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the crown of Jim's head. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah kid, that makes sense."

"Never really thanked you for giving me that." Jim admitted. "Letting me have a home. God, I'm maudlin."

"You've been tortured, Jim. It's allowed."

"I guess. Man, Spock's gonna be pissed. He's gonna make me read the list again. I hate the list." Jim muttered, leaning more of his weight against McCoy with every steady exhale, the tension slowly leaving his body as exhaustion won over.

"What list?" McCoy asked, wanting to keep Jim talking.

"No way do you not know about the list." Jim accused, one eye opening just enough to look up suspiciously.

"I know of no list, Jim." Which was a big fat lie, so sue him.

"Bridge crew – and Scotty – have started keeping a list of all the things I'm not allowed to do. You can bet this is going on it."

"Getting kidnaped and tortured _isn't_ on Spock's list of crazy shit you're not allowed to do?"

"And yet playing Parsi Squares is. I swear his priorities are fucked."

"He's protective."

"He's neurotic." Jim corrected. "And since when are you on Team Spock?"

"Since Team Spock made it their sole mission in life to keep your sorry ass in one piece."

"And bored."

"Boo fucking-" Jim suddenly tensed against him, stilling McCoy's mocking response. "Jim?"

"Someone's coming." Jim said, suddenly more alert than he had been since they had thrown him into McCoy's cell.

McCoy cursed, looking around desperately. There was nowhere to hid him, no advantage to be gained. But he slid out from behind Jim, pressed him carefully done and stood between him and the door.

They wanted to take him, they'd need to do it over McCoy's dead body.

"Bones, no." Jim struggled to sit, trying to unfasten the shirt wrapped around his broken legs, as if that would make the slightest difference in his ability to protect himself. "Don't do this!"

"Shut up, Jim." McCoy growled, squaring his shoulders and preparing to fight.

It didn't do any good. The cell door opened and in poured the Vitorians, and all of his protective, righteous rage meant nothing in the face of beings with five times their strength. McCoy's struggles did nothing more than earn him a halfhearted beating that left him gasping and choking, all the more humiliating for the fact that they'd clearly put not effort at all into inflicting the level of pain that they had.

He barely heard Jim calling for him, telling him to _stand down for fucksake_ over his own screams and threats. As he was able to scramble to his feet the cell door closed and all he could do was pound against the metal and continue to shout, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Jim could hear him from the other side.

"Jim!" He yelled. "Jim listen to me! Spock'll get us out and I promise,_ I promise_ we'll have a Christmas that'll put everything else to shame. Better than all your top five combined. I promise. Jim? Jim! Can you hear me? Jim!"

He thought nothing could be worse than being completely separated from Jim, not knowing where he was or if he was hurt. He was wrong.

When he heard Jim scream, he lost it.

"JIM!"

He pounded on the door, oblivious to the damage he caused himself in the process. If he could just get though, if he could get to Jim on the other side…

Then suddenly Jim stopped screaming, and somehow that was more terrifying than ever. Was he unconscious, or worse?

He was dimly aware of black spots creeping into his vision as the commotion beyond his door grew ever louder. He tried to control the swirling dizziness, the escalating panic, but nothing helped. He slumped down to the ground, barely able to breathe and struggling around the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest as he tried to keep his grasp on his consciousness.

He heard the cell door opening again and tried to summon the strength to seize the chance and fight, but though the voice calling his name was somehow familiar, his vision blacked over before he could place name to blurred face.

* * *

He jerked painfully back to consciousness and nearly took Christine Chapel's head off with a failing arm.

"Doctor McCoy! Doctor, _Leonard_! It's alright, you're safe. You're back on the _Enterprise."_

"Jim!" The last thing he could remember was Jim screaming. Jim not screaming. His thoughts were out of place and disjointed, his head pounding and his whole chest on fire.

"You have to calm down. You nearly died. Calm down."

McCoy wasn't calming down. Not for anyone or anything. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" He demanded, looking around, trying to see Jim. If they were safe on the ship then where was he?

"He'll be fine." Christine promised, still holding him down. McCoy had no idea she could be that strong and the functioning part of his brain told him that it wasn't her strength doing it, but his weakness. "M'benga is with him now. You _must_ relax."

"Please, allow me to assist." McCoy turned sharply at that calm, moderated voice. The same one he had heard before he lost consciousness.

"Spock! Jim, you have to find him!"

"Peace, Doctor." Spock stepped into his line of sight and took over Christine's task of holding him down against the biobed. "The Captain has been recovered. He is in surgery now. At this immediate point in time, _you_ are my primary concern."

"I'm fine." McCoy shook his head angrily. "They barely touched me."

"They very nearly killed you." Spock corrected. "You were not breathing when I located you."

"But Jim…"

"You must be still. The damage to your ribs is severe. If you continue to struggle we will be required to sedate you to avoid further injury."

"Don't you fucking dare you greenblooded hobgoblin, Jim needs me!"

"Jim needs you to rest and recover." Spock said sternly. "You are doing neither."

"Just let me the hell out of this bed." McCoy snarled. Spock was infinitely stronger than Christine and had no problem holding him down.

"Very well." Spock sighed, but instead of allowing McCoy to stand, he placed his fingers at the juncture of McCoy's neck and squeezed gently.

"Sonova-"

* * *

"Bones. Booooones." McCoy woke up slowly this time, not in pain and slightly fuzzy around the edges. "Bonesy. Wakey wakey."

"Nugh." He said eloquently. "Go'way."

"Well _that's_ nice. You scream the place down asking for me and now you don't want to see me. A guy could get the wrong idea."

McCoy opened his eyes immediately. "_Jim!"_

Jim was sat by the side of his bed, grinning widely. Only the faint lines around his eyes gave way to the stress he was under. That, and the fact that he was still swaddled in plasma wraps to aid the healing process. "Hi," he said brightly.

"You're okay."

"I'm way better than you old man. You gave everyone a hell of a scare."

"They took you…I couldn't stop them." He said brokenly.

Jim shrugged with only a faintly hidden wince. "Shit happens. Lucky for us Spock chose that time to swoop in with the Vulcan badassery and heroics and save our sorry asses."

"He took his time." McCoy grumbled.

"Be nice, Bones." Jim scolded. "He did the best he could. We all did."

"I suppose." McCoy said reluctantly, looking Jim up and down carefully, trying to search out the hurts that Jim was so skilled at concealing from the world. "What the hell are you wearing?" He asked, frowning at the floppy red hat perched on Jim's head.

"Merry Christmas Bonesy." Jim beamed at him.

"That is not sanitary." Bones glared at the slightly lopsided Santa hat.

"Neither's the rest of it." Jim said carelessly, and only then did McCoy notice the fact that his entire bed had been decked out with what looked like every festive, sparkly monstrosity the ship had to offer.

"Oh no." He shook his head stiffly. "No way. You are not turning my sickbay into Santa's Grotto."

"Too late," Jim said happily. "Scotty's been playing Christmas music over the internal comms since this morning. Uhura's going crazy trying to figure out how to stop him."

"And I suppose you're helping him," McCoy said suspiciously, putting on the show he knew Jim needed to see in order to stop worrying. In many ways they still lied to each other all the time, and this was just another one to add to the list.

"I'm convalescing." Jim argued. "I have no authority, no responsibility, and no idea at all how Uhura got herself locked out of her own system." His bright, cheeky grin said otherwise.

"She'll have your balls for that." McCoy couldn't help but laugh.

"Not until I'm cleared for duty she won't." Jim shook his head. "Besides…you promised me the best Christmas ever."

"I did, didn't I?" McCoy sighed. "Don't suppose I'll be up for delivering on that." He waved a hand at his bed bound state.

"You already have, dumbass." Jim laughed. "I thought you were going to die. And you didn't. You were unconscious long enough to miss the fact that your bio-readings now identify you as the Grinch Who Stole Christmas and you don't get to hypo me to death with anything until _you're_ cleared for duty. That officially makes this the best Christmas ever."

Jim's tone was light and playful, but McCoy knew him well enough to read the words he hid beneath the lightheartedness. He must have really scared the kid.

He reached out and grabbed Jim's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I guess so."

Jim's answering smile was a little less bright but no less genuine and for a moment they just sat there in silence, marveling at the fact that once again they had survived together.

Then Jim cracked another of his roughish grins. "Just wait until you guess where Keenser hid the mistletoe." He laughed.


End file.
